The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1887-01-13
A WOMAN'S CHOICE.

y
For pastime, ere you went TO town."
Quoted Stephen Bellair, slowly and
meaninglv, lying full length on the
grass and gazing up into Elinor Thrales'
| lovely, beguiling eyes, blue as violets,
and set in as fair a face as one could
wish to see.
A little naughty flush warmed her
smooth cheeks. Why was it this man
| detied her power-held his heart SO safe
! ly within his own possession when
others were ready to fling themselves
down at her feet?
He belonged only to the wealthy class
of farmers, proudly owned he would not
be anything else but a farmer, and
| spent at least nine months out of every
| twelve on his farm. But he was su-
perb-looKlng fellow, long limbed and
| broad shouldered, with dark brown
! eyes, and hair and mustache of that
warm color neither red. gold, nor
| brown, but an odd mixture of all three.
He was bronzed, too. and his we'll
| shaped, muscular hands bore evidence
| of outdoor life, of farm life.
They had met at this lakeside resort.
! and Miss Thrale had thought to add
| him TO her list of victims before she re-
turned TO town to give her youth and
beauty for old Valasco's diamonds and
brown-stone palace.
But in the countryman she met her
match Neither her beauty, grace, nor
| the art of a finished cOquette could sub
| iugate him. He vexed and thwarted
| her, and every day his independence,
his proud manliness, took fresh hold on
| her.
| Old Valasco held aloof, waiting pa
| tiently, sercnely confident of his ulti-
| mate success. Love in a farmhouse,
| be it ever so handsome and well APP
| pointed, would not suit woman of the
world aud one who loved the gay ways
| of the world like Elinor Thrale.
| She was destined TO be leader in So
ciety, to set the fashions, and. in short,
to be his wife, wear his jewels, ride in
his carriage, and rule his house.
| And So not having the fire and pas
sion of youth, he droned along through
the days and weeks of the glorious sum
mer, while Stephen Bellair walked and
! talked with Miss Thrale, varied by
moonlight sails on The lake, or long
drives along the beach road.
| To-day she sat on rustic bench clad
in some soft, light stuff, cool, lovely
| picture under the old trees, and he lay
on the grass at her feet, looking up into
| her violet eyes, and the color III her face
came and went strangely.
| Velasco came out on the hotel veran-
da, saw them out there, and strolled
across the grass toward them-a little,
withered. nsigniticant-looking old man,
with yellow skin and shifty black eyes
set rather close together.
"Tll offer them my new team to take
a drive Hang the fellow! He might
break his neck for aught l would care,
80 she returned unharmed.h
Excuse ME for breaking in upon
your little tete-G-tete, but have favor
to ask of you this afternoon" he said,
rubbing his hands together and smiling
quite genially.
"a favor Mr. Velasco?" said Elinor
in her softest, sweetest tones.
And Stephen set his teeth sharply
| tc-ether, and from his brown eyes
leaped a strange, lightning flash of
| Jealous rage No, he could not stoop to
| be Jealous of that old man; then what
| emotion caused it?
Yes, favor, Miss Thrale. | have
ordered a new team from the city. Win
| YOU and Mr. Mr-ah-Bellair do me the
| honor to take the first drive?"
with pleasure; that is, if Mr.. Bellair
is willing to forego the comfort of lying
any longer on the grass, looking
aughngly down at him"
And he met her glance straightly, un-
f1inchingly.
''lt is my pleasure to serve you, Miss
Thrale. | had thought to ask you to
| drive with me this evening, and if you
wish to test this untried team, am at
your service"
Thank your'
"And | thank you," said Velasco,
softly. Il particularly desire your
opinion"
And Elinor had the grace to blush.
Half an hour later they were rolling
| swiftly down the beach road, behind
two snowy, tiery-tcmpered bays, in q
new and costly carriage. Elinor leaned
indolentlv back on the silken cushions,
with a white parasol interposed between
her fairness and the light of the shining
sun.
Stephen kept firm hand on the lines
| until a sudden whim to drive took
possession of Miss Thrale.
Give me the ribbons. SIR Bellair. "
Il am afraid you cannot manage
them. Miss Thrale."
She laughed in soft scorn.
You do not know me. Driving is
one of my many accomplishments"
He gave the lines reluctantly to her
''Be careful; they are not trustworthy.
Let them get the bit between their teeth
and we may be found lying in some
roadside ditch with"
Broken necks? How can you think
of such unpleasant things?" with a half
shudder.
But for the second time in ner life
she discovered that if she could not be